Page 8 of Madness Becomes Her
“Maybe cotton? No… wool. No, Hatter, that’s mad. Wool will make her itch. Wool will, will wool, say that five times fast.”
What is his damage?
Guilt swarms me because clearly something is the matter with this man, and it’s not my right to judge. But, in his defense, everyone around that table yesterday seemed a bit… off, to put it nicely.
“Sir,” I cut in, trying to stop his verbal spinning.
His eyes snap to mine, frantic and ethereal green. “No!”
I startle.
“Suede. You have just the head for suede.”
I let out an exasperated groan. “I don’t need a hat! Listen, do you know how I can get home? I’m desperate to find my way back to my world…”
“This is your home! Doesn’t need a hat, what nonsense is that? What will keep her ridiculous head warm?” He continues muttering as he exits the room.
“Hey!” I shout, tossing back the covers and following him. “You said my head was perfect!”
Don’t get drawn into his delusions, Eleanor!
“Your head is… perfectly alright.”
I’ve angered him. That much is certain.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I need a hat. It’s just…”
“Suede?” he asks, his voice husky with excitement.
I can’t help it, my own heart races. “Sure. Suede.”
He claps his hands together. “Go, then. Let me work! Shoo!”
“Hatter!” I shout, stomping my foot as he turns to escape the living space to the back of the house, where I assume his workspace is, though every room in the house looks like a workspace.
Turning, his green eyes take me in as a piece of his brown hair falls over his forehead, making him look far more innocent. It also makes him look darkly handsome.
“I asked you a question,” I say, exasperated with every interaction with this man.
“Did you?” He turns toward me, and I lick my lips as I let my eyes peruse his fit form again.
“I did. I asked you how to get home.”
At this, he gives me a smug look. His hands perched on his hips. “I answered your question, remember? Youarehome. There’s nowhere to go. Now, go find someone else to bother while I create your perfect hat!”
I’m stunned as he strides to the back of the house.
A door slams, and I’m left standing in the middle of what I assume was once a living room, as I can see a couch peeking out from beneath a pile of tulle.
Hatter never comes back.
I’m left to my own devices all day.
I never see another soul. Not even when I get dressed in some of his clothes and wander out to where the insane tea party was all day yesterday.
There’s a mess over the table, so I tidy it up.
It’s not until the sun is at its peak that I realize how long I’ve been working. Deciding to find something edible to forage in thewoods, I grab a basket from the pile near the front door and head just inside the tree line, the entire time keeping my wits about me.
